Jack Goes to WalMart
by John Jack Morrison
Summary: Jack is a naughty boy who needs to clean himself up, and he does just that.


He walks in with as much confidence as he would anywhere else, it's only natural people stare at him. He is the strike commander after all, but people are pointing and snickering, and even trying to hide the fact that their taking pictures. But why? This is nothing new; people take photos of him all the time, why would they try to hide it now. He looks to the t.v that shows the recording of all who enters Walmart, and he sees only himself, he is completely naked. He looked back to the people standing there taking photos, he was the strike commander; everyone knew his face and name. He couldn't do this; everyone would see his Long Johnson hanging freely between his legs, the mountains of fleshy mounds of flesh: his plush rump, jiggling with every over the top, uneven pointlessly long strides.  
"Oh well…" he thought with a shrug and processed to move through the store, "these people get to see high definition, wonder bread, god like body, so be it, lucky them." He began to skip merrily skip into the store, his finely toned thighs clap together.

Slowly he walked down the cleaning supplies island and came to the Dawn soaps. Bending down he grabs the 98 cent bottle. People had followed him throughout the store, skipping merrily with him even, recording him and live streaming the event. Some pushed their way to the front of the crowed to get a shot of his ass, while he bent down it gave them an excellent shot of his putrid asshole. It was filthy, dirty, the definition of a nasty-ass-asshole. Everyone laughed, some moaned, some fainted, he starts to have seconded thought about all this. He climbs over the shelves like a fucking spider monkey demon thing and jumped from spot to spot. He ran thought out the store, dodged place to place, licking things along the way, He found a nice pair of leather shoes, but he hated the right show, fuck the right shoe, the right shoe could go fuck itself off into oblivion. He would piss on all the right shoes in the world if he could, even his own right shoes were not safe from his golden showers. It could start a family and invite Jack to the wedding and baby showers, but Jack would never go, he hated the right shoe, he had distains for all the right shoes, but that was a battle for another day. The left found its way in his mouth, salivating deeply he began eating the shoe, soon it was gone, deep within his soul, transcending time and space to become one with him, and he grew stronger.

Jack couldn't hide long before his rancid ass gave away his location, people gathering around him trying to take pictures or figure out where the rust musky smell was coming from.

He ended up in the women's dressing room, crouched down in shame with the bottle of 98 cent Dawn soap hidden behind his ass. He starts pouring the soap onto his own dirty ol' pucker, but still, he didn't feel clean, he starts to shove the bottle of 98 cent Dawn soap into his apocalyptic cum guzzler. The cap scrapes against it walls, the pain was clean, like soap even. He begins to bounce on the 98 cent bottle of Dawn soap, feeling the cap press against his wonder ball he started to cum.

His cum shots like his plasma blaster rockets, but with more coverage, he was so over stimulated he started to piss himself. He soaked the carpet below him in his milky man juice; it wouldn't stop, no matter what he did. His flesh volcano has erupted and the world must witness its destruction. He even started to punch his meaty yank chain to try and stop it, but alas, it only made it stronger.

The Dawn soap bottle started to leak soap out of his cataclysmic orifice. He started to piss himself silly adding to the cum on the floor. Looking up could see that the walls of the dressing room had faded away, and strange black creature were watching him and laughing, cheering and jeering for him to continue fucking himself on the 98 cent bottle of Dawn soap. He embraced his fate and began to make laugh with the clowns, opening his arms like he would embrace Jesus soon, but Jesus was not here, no, Jesus was not there for dirty bois like Jack.

Jack all the while had never stopped cumming and pissing all over himself and the floor, he would almost drown in the body of liquid from his own body. But he was a good boy, so he stood up right, the soap still in his ass, the soap still leaking, still cleaning the grotesque contents out of his fumbling gas flapper. The clowns got closer and laughed louder at him, he couldn't stop shoving the soap up his rumpes, he needed to be a good boy and clean that gaping void he had hidden between his flesh sheets. His legs shaking, gave out and he fell flat on his ass, the 98 cent bottle of Dawn soap being shoved far up Jack's asshole, so far up he started vomiting soap and fecal matter. He closed his eyes absorbing the laughter of the clowns and bathing in his own bodily fluids, sloshing around, like he was his own frothy butt nugget. He loved it, being the frothy butt nugget that he was, he loves being a nasty nasty boy, he was supposed to be clean but the tiny bottle of 98 cent Dawn soap just wasn't enough to cleanse him of the sin that was the crusted cum the encased his body.

He realized, he was forming a cocoon, the claws still laughing, the bottle making its way through his digestive system, the cocoon kept all his body juices on with him. It was like a rancid broth, he couldn't help but love it, and the cocoon engulfed him. He breathed in the scent of everything he was and is as the Dawn soap bottle finally made its way out of his mouth. He had to unhinge his jaw to get it all out, he finally felt as if he could embrace God, in his turn from.

He woke with a jolt, sweating and breathing heavily; he sat up and began to cry. He needed to go, he was late for work, but he sat there and cried and cried and cried and cried. Gabriel walked in, food his hand, noticing Jack's cries he went to comfort his friend.

"Jack my friend, what's wrong me-o-me-go?" he asked considerably.

Jak whined like the crying bitch baby he was, is, and will always be,

"Im a dirty boi!" he cried and fell into Gabriel's, Gabe patted his friend tenderly. And went to retrieve something from his boot pocket.

"Here friend, may haps you could you use this?" he said

Jack looked up to see it, a 98 cent bottle of Dawn soap.


End file.
